Interlude
by Amanda Saitou
Summary: It's Bruce and Joker and their eternal dance. Batman/Joker slash.


Disclaimer: DC Comics and Warner Bros own the characters here presented, I take no profit from them.

Summary: In Bruce Wayne's birthday, gifts can come in the most unexpected way. Bruce/Joker.

A/N: This is a repost of my first B/J fic, with some editing.

**INTERLUDE**

Here we go again, I can see the scared crowd of suits and expensive jewelry trembling with fear, the henchmen pointing their guns at everyone's heads, and of course, my main guest of the night playing with his ever-present collection of knives and lost to his mad fits of laughter.

I remembered Alfred saying something about my birthday party going to rock Gotham's grounds a few hours earlier, about it being the hit happening of the year. Sometimes I just so hate that my old friend is right most of the time! Of all places in the city, my most insane and obsessive nemesis had to choose my party to invade, of course.

"Goooood evening, fellow rich men and ladies of Gotham, today's entertainment has just arrived!"

Well, one could not deny that he was indeed some entertainment! Dressed in those weird patterns of purple and green, chuckling and talking with that rag doll's voice, and walking like a drunken drag queen, he didn't even need the blades to scare people like that.

After all this time, so many enemies on my to-do list, and this madman still keeps his number one status in it, crashing into both of my lives with a stubbornness rivaled to my own. Of course, in _this_ Bruce Wayne life, it's a sick series of coincidences, whilst in Batman's, it's a never-ending obsession. Gordon's words, and as much as I hate to admit, I have to agree with him.

"Now, now, where's the happy party boy of the night?"

How many times has this clown made me want to break my one rule? I want to run and hide until he goes away, really…but there he is, threatening people in my own house, and Batman is just here, awakened, and all I want is to throw him through the closest window, and get rid of that ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

"I don't think you've noticed, but it's extremely rude to come to a party without being invited. Especially when it comes to _you_!"

The grin widens, making his scars an even more grotesque vision to appreciate. I wonder, for once, how he really got his scars.

"Oh, Brucey, dear, that's not a very nice thing to say to such a special guest like me."

He approaches me, as I expected. As long as he pays attention to me, the others might be safe. Having him circling me like that is not the most pleasant view in the world; he makes me think of a snake preparing to bite at any moment.

"That's a very nice party, how many pennies have you spent? You see, you could've used it to buy something better." A tomato drink was snatched away from someone, glass thrown soundly to the floor. The liquid splattered in his face while he ate the garnish like a savage from the caves, giving some extra life to his already red lips and scars.

I don't flinch or back away. Not this time. "Such as…?"

He spins and giggles and lands on the floor, giggles more and stares at me, batting his eyelashes. Does he have to be so girlish all the time? Well, one more reason to throw him through the window.

"Oh, I could think about so many things, dear Brucey! Bloody Mary ice cream, for example…a new set of knives…or…some redecoration, you see, you lack a bit of…humor!" His hands toyed with a blade, his gaze wandering around the room, that murderous gleam in the green eyes. Bad thing. I have to keep his attention, no matter what.

A spark of a smirk crosses my face. "And why so serious, riddle-face?" Victory. He turns towards me with a not so playful look this time.

"What did you just call me, Brucey?"

I recalled Batman's last encounter with Joker and the Riddler, both exchanging insults as they were dragged to Arkham for God knows which time. Both men had become a show to watch, and there were bets in every police station to see who would kill the other first. Of course, almost everyone hoped they could kill each other at the same time. So, yes, I had hit a sore spot, calling him that.

I make my most innocent face. "Riddle-face?" Bingo! He jumps at me savagely, blade ready to cut.

"I would apologize quickly if I were you, rich boy." He slices a piece of skin, and I can feel the small trickle of blood descending my chin. Good thing Alfred was not there that day; he'd panic from my suicidal actions.

My guests, I notice, need to be taken away from my house. Despite the itching of the blade cutting skin, I set my mind into finding a way to do it. The green eyes staring at me look quite curious, maybe because another common man wouldn't be this quiet while being cut by the most wanted criminal in the country. Funny to think that now, to him, I'm just Bruce Wayne, a spoiled rich boy he likes to play with every now and then…funny, in a sadistic way, how his compulsion guides him to me, Batman or not… tricks of the unconscious, perhaps. Just wished sometimes his unconscious would choose someone else for a change.

"Well, pet? I'm waiting."

I try to see something through those oceans of green, so close for comfort, yet so familiar at this point of our lives…it's like trying to decipher a hurricane that has just crashed into an earthquake and married into a nuclear explosion. How one can understand the chaos in itself, after all?

"What, didn't you like my joke? I'm hurt!" More subtle cuts and I hope I don't face a mirror for a while after I get rid of this situation. Blood runs from my mouth in drops now, and that convinces my brain to work faster. He licks his scars nervously, and the simplest of his actions gives me an obvious idea…crazy, oh hell, very crazy, but a good one. I can't avoid grinning.

"What's the fun of it, Brucey? I might as well dispose of you whenever I want to." He points that knife, inching it closer to a vein in my neck. I flinch but just a little. I'm not giving him the pleasure of controlling me through fear; he already does that with everybody else.

"Just an idea I've had, a game we could play – but just the two of us." I make my voice a purr, seductive on purpose while trying to ignore the churning of my stomach. "What do you say?"

"Humm…exactly what kind of game, Mr. Wayne?"

"Let the others go and I'll show you." What I am doing?

"Ha-ha-ha, Brucey, who could tell you'd be almost as fun as the Bat?" It must have worked somehow because he stands up, dragging me by the collar of my shirt, gives a good stare at the guests and is soon barking orders to his henchmen to leave along with the guests. He keeps a firm grip on me as they run like madmen, and some send me a sorry look, as if it would help me, had I needed.

After the last guest goes, his attention turns on me again. His eyes on me are so mischievous I'm almost regretting my idea…well, on to the game.

"Now, Brucey, I wanna see this game of yours." He let go off me. "Can I keep my toys?" he asks, pointing out his blades in his pockets. That grin makes Hell freeze.

I tear off my jacket and send it flying to the other side of the room. I hope I do not regret what I'm about to do. Shoes, socks and shirt are gone soon after, while attentive eyes never leave me. "Be my guest!"

His smile widens as he positions himself, a thunderstorm about to begin. I can't explain why these allusions flow from my mind when we're together in our little dance, all bringing about chaos, and seem to call for order to come and restrain it, as impossible as it seems to be.

We circle each other, me so focused, him openly enjoying the show. It is like a dance, an interlude to some great happening, two pawns destined to do it together forever…wasn't this what Joker always said?

At each move there is blood, new scars, mad giggles, bruises, excitement and discarded pieces of garment, as well as smeared make up and lipstick…wildness…bodies and fists colliding…touching enough to hurt but not too much.

I let myself be conquered, because the darkness in me tonight needs it, needs to submit to this strong entity, this fire, this rain, this hurricane, this passion…this chaos.

Our bodies collide on the floor, one over the other, and he laughs louder. It's insane, I know, as we entangle arms and legs like that, as this frail body fits mine in such a perfect way, as I allow this madman to take me over, body and soul.

Nothing seems to stand between us. Blades and costumes and masks gone, we stop one last time to stare at each other, a moment of consideration before the final act of our game. This man is a killer, maybe even a monster and he is mad, believe me, he really is…yet, in this moment of truth, one thing is certain: I make him temporarily sane, or is it me who's finally gone over the edge? Because evil and madness show so much adoration through his eyes…the bat wants to take over, but today, Bruce Wayne has decided that it's him who's going to decide.

I nod and we melt into one. Inside and all over me, the Joker makes me feel whole as I've never felt before. Is it depraved of me, a loss of morals and sanity, to enjoy his touches, his adoration, and his making love to me in such a deep way? After all he's done to me and to my town? To Rachel…

No, I cannot think about her, not now, because what I share with this man is way above what I felt for her…and God forgive me, it's much more powerful than that, too. As we come in unison, heartbeats slowing down, arms embracing each other in a supportive manner, light kisses warming one another, slumber taking over, I wonder what's going to come next for us – the Batman and his perfect half, the madman known as the Joker.


End file.
